


mirror/dreams

by LexiTheDoubleedge



Series: Melody of Subsumption [1]
Category: Slut Life (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Absolutely Positively No Actual Guro, Body Horror, Complicated Consent, F/F, Original Character(s), Suicidal Thoughts, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 02:37:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18437282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LexiTheDoubleedge/pseuds/LexiTheDoubleedge
Summary: Slut Life contestants with existing superpowers are encouraged to do some rules lawyering when they can. It makes things unpredictable and exciting.But this time things went in a direction no one could have predicted...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note: I feel like I could probably write this story a lot better if I did it today. But given the emotional context around it getting written in the first place, I don't really have the will to make the attempt. It will have to stand as it is... modulo some spelling corrections, anyway.

**_...mirror...?_ **

I woke up. Or should I say I fell asleep? I knew I was in a dream, but everything felt absolutely real. The rough stone at my back, the hint of scratching as my shredded clothing rubbed against me, the wet squirming of the tentacles shoving me against the wall... well, that last was a new one for me, but I was kind of assuming that it was accurate.

I gave a soft, satisfied smile. It was beginning.

It should have been a nightmare. For it wasn't just ordinary tentacles that were waiting for their turn at me. The pincers that had obviously done the job on my clothes were mild things that couldn't break my skin on a good day. But further back were larger claws, blades, spikes, all waving in agitation. Further back were stranger, more dangerous shapes.

It should have been a nightmare. But I knew my Nature.

I also knew they'd be monitoring my dreams. Or they were monitoring the other. Maybe both of us. That was fine. I didn't know what was going to happen, but this was going to be a show no one would forget in one way or another.

There was something like mist in the distance. Maybe it had always been there. It shifted restlessly, hiding and revealing things.

Sometimes, the things it hid didn't come back.

As the mist came closer, I could see that it wasn't really mist at all, but sheets of thin gauze that were sliding between me and the world. They would wrap around things, softening edges, changing shapes, or obscuring them in their entirety. Sometimes they would slip off, be pierced or torn away, but more gauze always came to complete it's work. I was still facing something inhuman, but it was simpler, less threatening, less diffuse.

I closed my eyes. Sensory deprivation never did anything but annoy me, but I had a feeling that it would make the next part easier.

Almost immediately, the touches I was feeling multiplied. Not in the sense of being stronger, because they weren't. There were just more of them. Like the sights before them, they came and went, but gradually the new began to displace the old. If my eyes were open, the contradictions might have distracted me, maybe even dangerously so. But like this, I could focus on one thing at a time. Tentacles holding my arms back became arms themselves, trembling as they wrapped around my shoulders as I stroked them reassuringly. The ones thrusting into my body became thighs grinding against my own, desperate for release, but more important were the lips against mine, whispering -or was that screaming?-, pleading for something other than passion.

I opened my eyes.

I knew I was in a dream, but everything felt absolutely real. The sheets were smooth against my bare skin, the polished wood of the floor warm and comfortable against my feet. And there was a girl in my arms, naked but for a long red cloak. Her short black hair was disheveled, and I could hear her panting.

Her breathing evened out, but I knew she wasn't truly calm. Her head tilted back, and I could see the despair written plainly on her face. Her voice was rough from sobbing, and her pale eyes full of tears yet unshed.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I want to stop it, but I don't know how!"

I pressed a finger gently against her lips, just for a moment. "Shh."

Her eyes widened. I could see them running disbelievingly over her arms, crossing for a moment as she tried to look at her own nose. I pulled her closer, held her gently. My hands traced along whatever parts of her they could reach, my toes brushed against her feet and calves. It wasn't a lover's touch. It felt wrong to even call it sensual. It was simply sensory. The preliminary awareness that precedes those and more. Reminders. You have arms. You have legs. You have a torso that joins them, not just an endless procession of appendages. You have toes, ankles, lips. You have eyes and ears to perceive the world around you. All the hundreds of little things that make up your true self, that you feared someday you wouldn't get back, that you might die in your sleep and nothing but the monster would remain, have been returned to you.

The monster wasn't gone. But it was going dormant. Inside the labyrinth of my newly grown mental defenses, there were no victims for it to torture or heroes for it to fight. There weren't even walls for it to rage against anymore. It was surrounded by nothing, and so it became as close to nothing as it could. But the girl who was the source of it remained.

I was sure some outside observers would say I should hate her for what she'd tried to do to me. I could see more than that. I couldn't hate her when her own power was trying to drive her mad alongside me. And she'd given me something precious. I didn't know what we'd be to each other in the future. Maybe we'd be lovers. I'm sure that would make some people happy. I hoped we'd be friends, though even that might be too much. But what I wouldn't be was a well for her to drown in. I wasn't going to let her suffer like that anymore.

Not a monster.

You're not a monster.

You'll never have to be a monster again.

She sagged against me, and I could feel that she was crying again, but it was different now. These were tears of relief, of a forlorn hope redeemed. Tears that could end.

As I gently smoothed her hair back, I asked "What's your name?"

"... Elle."

**_The Broken Mirror of Her Dreams - End_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
> The Elle of this story is inspired by Elle (aka Labyrinth) from the web serial Worm (or fanfic depictions thereof), but is not intended to be her or an AU version of her.
> 
> For one thing, Labyrinth doesn't look anything like Ruby Rose. (https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/rwby/images/c/ce/Vol3_Ruby_ProfilePic_Normal.png/revision/latest/scale-to-width-down/250?cb=20160422133820)
> 
> Even if I actually do visualize Labyrinth as looking like Ruby Rose, because I don't know. None of the stories I read with her mentioned her hair color, okay?
> 
> This is also an alternate character interpretation of the Psychic from the "Slut Life" CYOA (which, despite the name, seems quite capable of being non-terrible or even actually very good) of "what if their ability was involuntary, unwelcome to them, in fact self-destructive?" More specifically it was the first line of spoken dialogue coming to me (at a really inconvenient time) that set this off.
> 
> Nature - I can't help but wonder if anyone will guess what this is.
> 
> Sensory deprivation never did anything but annoy me - Don't anyone even tell me that isn't a thing. The protagonist is not an SI, but this part is totally based on the author.
> 
> contradictions - At a minimum, if our unnamed protagonist had had her eyes open she would have seen her arms in two places at once. That would have been bad.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Epilogue_ **

Turns out, you can actually go to sleep in a shared dreamscape. It just doesn't make for good TV.

Ask us how much we care.


	3. Chapter 3

**_...dreams...?_ **

The funny thing about fears is that most of them didn't make very much sense. The arachnophobe had probably never been near a spider whose venom could harm them. The germophobe had a perfectly healthy immune system. The acrophobe never had to spend time near the edge.

I felt that my fear was somewhat more concrete and reasonable than theirs. It had come to me in the past, and could not be avoided in the future.

I feared sleep.

***

I never knew the second victim of my power. I thought I was just having a nightmare. Incredibly realistic, detailed, horrific, but still just a nightmare.

I realized how wrong I was when the third shot me. I never learned whether she had actually heard me begging for death, or was simply acting on her own anger. Either way, I did not begrudge her the attempt.

The fourth was a volunteer, under carefully controlled circumstances as the Coordinators tested the boundaries of my power. Neither of us was allowed to stay asleep for very long, but that was bad enough.

There wasn't a fifth before I went into stasis.

***

When they woke me up, I was told that a new contestant had been offered and chosen an unusual option. I would be joining them and their other 'owners' in their new home, a home that had been fitted out with state-of-the-art psionic shielding.

This shielding did not have any flaws.

The lack of shielding between the contestant's room and my own was not a flaw. It was a fully understood design choice. This was emphasized when I was informed that my sleep cycle would be 'synchronized' to hers. I didn't know the exact details, but the essence was simple enough - when she slept, I would.

I was to be a weapon aimed at this girl's sanity, and I'd probably take my own with me.

And I couldn't stop it. I'd gone to the Coordinators with a request that was simple in principle but seemed impossible in execution: _save me_. And I'd agreed to a lot in return. This was not outside the limits of what they could demand of me.

If I tried to stay outside, I'd just end up exposing more people who didn't deserve it. And I couldn't quite bring myself to pursue a more permanent solution. So I just lay there in my bed and waited.

Waited for the nightmare to begin again.

_Please forgive me._

***

I didn't recognize her. That wasn't surprising. I hadn't gone out to meet her. Couldn't imagine what I could say to her. She shouldn't have to deal with me any more.

From the uniform - what was left of it - she was some kind of magical girl. So if she killed me, I'd probably stay dead.

I was sure I'd get around to telling her to kill me before the night was up. Even though she wouldn't be able to hear me.

When she saw me - or rather, what my power had turned dream-me into - she smiled at me.

She smiled at me.

She must have some kinks. Most contestants started out with a few. Thought she was having an erotic dream. It wouldn't last. No one could enjoy what my power made me do to them.

Except me.

The pleasure was already starting. My power wanted me to enjoy this, to be a willing instrument of torture, and that was how it tried to make me one, by making everything feel so very, very good.

I didn't enjoy it yet.

But I didn't know how long I would be able to hold on.

I closed my eyes.

I didn't have eyes. How could I close them? How was I seeing at all? How could I whisper or scream when nowhere on the abomination that was me was there a mouth?

But I still did it. I wouldn't be able to do it for long. My power wouldn't let me look away for long. I could let her have her dignity for a while. When I had to look again, I knew it would be even worse for the delay.

But I still closed my eyes.

The senses were strange in this form, and without sight I couldn't really understand them. I could feel touch, and movement, and transformation, and always underlying it all the relentless pleasure. But I didn't know what any of it meant.

The first orgasm hit me. I didn't want it to. I didn't want it to feel this good.

But it felt so very, very good.

I didn't want to open my eyes. I couldn't open my eyes. I had to open my eyes.

I opened my eyes.

For the moment, I was still. It felt like I was closer to her now, like I was looking her directly in the eyes.

She was beautiful. And that just made it worse.

We weren't having a moment. This was just a pause. It wouldn't last.

I couldn't talk to her. She wouldn't hear me. No one could ever hear me. But I still tried.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I want to stop it, but I don't know how!"

She pressed a finger gently against my lips, just for a moment. "Shh."

I didn't have lips. How was she pressing a finger against my lips when I didn't have lips?

I had lips.

My arms were around her. When had that happened?

Little by little, the rest of my body reported in that yes, it existed, and eventually I started to believe it.

I wasn't a monster anymore.

And she was still smiling at me.

Even after what I'd done, she was accepting me.

I wasn't being abandoned to my madness.

As I cried into her shoulder, she asked "What's your name?"

"... Elle," I replied.

"It's nice to meet you, Elle. I'm Aria."

**_Disenchanted Dreams - End_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't even realized I needed to show Elle's side until after I'd written most of Aria's. Thankfully, having written out how it ended let me put this one on the back burner emotionally for a while. Bursting into tears every ten minutes because I could suddenly hear Elle screaming in my head, turns out it's surprisingly non-restful.
> 
> second victim - The first victim was herself.
> 
> power - The different term is used very deliberately. What Elle does here is -not- a Nature in more ways than one.
> 
> 'owners' - The word doesn't seem to quite fit with the actual mechanic, so it gets sarcasm quotes here.
> 
> Coordinators - As used here (and in my City of Heroes fiction) "Coordinator" refers to a machine intelligence that, well, coordinates things, along with such duties as preserving institutional knowledge and making sure that the location of Sealed Evils in a Can and the conditions under which they'll open aren't forgotten. It also has a special additional meaning to me - I will never identify a machine intelligence as a Coordinator that isn't essentially benevolent. They may not be perfect, but they will at least genuinely try to do the best they can for everyone they work with.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Epilogue_ **

I later learned that precog support had determined that exposing me to Aria would have a beneficial effect for both of us, but due to Aria's Nature they couldn't accurately determine the details of how that might happen. In a large number of possible scenarios, telling me anything in advance would have caused things to go wrong.

But sometimes it's not so easy to forgive.


End file.
